heroes and kings have passed away; and, beyond this vivid scene, in dim
perspective, arose the western hills, tinged with delicate blue, and
scarcely discernible from the clouds which floated over them. Even the
enraptured travellers, who stood gazing from the summit of Mont Blanc,
were not more delighted than the enthusiastic _trio_ who looked from the
brow of Hambleton on that memorable morning. But our object was not
attained, and we set forward with replenished vigour, to cross the
heather-heath, whose bleak aspect prepared us for the paradise which
smiled below the other side of the hills. The first prominent object
which met our view, was the terrace, with its classical temples at each
of its terminations; and next, the wood encircled hamlet of Scawton, at
whose little alehouse we enjoyed a hearty breakfast; and then set
forward to explore our beloved region of Rievaulx; our path being
through a mountainous wood, which nearly kissed the sky, and obscured
the rustic road which divided it: after several windings through this
leafy labyrinth, we arrived at a point where the wood was more open, and
the dell considerably wider. It was after passing a picturesque cottage
and bridge, that the first view of Rievaulx Abbey broke upon us. It was
then that the first outline of its "Gothic grandeur" was displayed to
us. Crossing the little bridge of Rieval, we proceeded along the banks
of the Rye, which morosely rolled along, scarcely deigning to murmur its
complaints to the woody hills which skirted it, as if in pique for the
ruin of its sublime temple, and the disappearance of its monastic lords.
The village of Rieval, constructed out of the wreck of the spacious
abbey, displays some reverence for the preservation of inscriptions dug
out of the building; and the little windows which lit the cells of
studious monks five hundred years ago, now grace the cottages of
illiterate peasants. We took a facsimile of one inscription, in Saxon
letters, merely denoting the name of the monastery.